


Workplace Accident

by scottmon3y



Category: Le magasin des suicides | The Suicide Shop (2012)
Genre: Omorashi, Other, Wetting, pee desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmon3y/pseuds/scottmon3y
Summary: Mishima puts off a bathroom break in order to serve some customers.





	Workplace Accident

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re in this non existent fandom and were looking for fanfics only to find out one of the only ones is this weird soft core fetish fic, then I’m so sorry.

Sundays were always the busiest work days for the Tuvaches. Maybe it was the church’s influence, or maybe it was simply the looming threat of Monday. Whatever the cause, Magasin Des Suicides has seen a nearly endless stream of costumers that day.

‘Ugh, don’t think about that word.’

Since his wife was working the checkout counter, Vincent was busy with his blades, Marylin was generally unhelpful, and Alan had been grounded from helping with the store, Mishima was left as the lone salesman. From the moment the shop opened that morning, he’d been flooded with work.

‘Enough! Stop thinking all together.’

For much of that time, he’d had a rather pressing need on his mind. He managed to hold it together through most of the sales, but now things were becoming increasingly urgent. 

Mishima sent his most recent customer away with a polite wave. It quickly morphed into a squirm, which earned him a funny look from Lucrèce.

“Is something the matter? You look ill.” she said.

“No, no. I’ve just got to take care of something. Be back in a -“

No sooner than the customer left had a new one walked in. She crouched over shyly, looking around with wondrous eyes.

“Excuse me, can you help me?” she asked. Mishima automatically spun around and gave her his trademark grin. He leaned over to meet her, despite the awful pressure on his bladder.

“Poor day, Madame! What do you need?” he asked.

“To die.” she replied bluntly. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes, I know. We do specialize in that. But what supplies do you need to achieve that?” 

Her brow knit with anxiety once again. She mumbled something under her breath before staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m not entirely sure. There’s so much to see in here. Would you mind showing your products to me?”

Yes, actually, he did mind. He minded a LOT. Nevertheless, a business was nothing without its customers. 

“Of course. Come this way.” 

He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining his wares to her, and then re-explaining them when she became confused. His grin became wider and wider as he strained to hide his contempt for her. 

“It’s very simple.”

‘For God’s sake, how hard can it be to understand?’ he thought. 

“Just slip the noose around your neck, and then fall. You’ll die very quickly.”

The woman hummed loudly, which Mishima had come to understand as a precursor to her indecisiveness. She ran her fingers over the various glass cases on the counter before her.

“Well, I thought I was sold on the rope, but now I’m stuck between that and these cyanide pills.” 

He sighed and motioned towards his collection of rope, maneuvering behind the customer as he did so. He secretly crossed his legs after making sure nobody was looking his way.

“If it makes any difference, we offer a complementary stool with the purchase of a noose.” 

“Ah, that is nice! But what would I do with it once I finish? It won’t go with my house’s interior at all.” 

He hissed and shook his head.

‘What will that matter? You’ll be dead, you dense pute!’

“Then again, all these poisons look so tempting. More so than anything else in your store!” she exclaimed, staring down at the vials with excitement. Mishima sighed in relief - then twitched at the thought of being relieved - and went to her side.

“Magnificent! Which one would you like?” That telltale expression returned and Mishima’s bladder cried out for mercy.

“What makes them different?” she asked.

“For one thing, they’ve all got different activation times. Not to mention some affect your body in different ways.”

She looked more confused than ever. Before she could speak, though, he had a clever idea.

“Perhaps you’d like a moment to think it over? Too much explanation can cloud one’s judgment, you know. I’d hate to be the cause of a less than perfect death.” He imagined himself sneaking off to the bathroom, and smiled. The mental relief was so intense he nearly lost control right then and there. With all the strength he could muster, he squeezed his thighs together and held back.

“Oh no,” the customer said. “I’d love to hear all about your poisons. You are an expert, after all.”

Well, that plan was down the drain. 

“Of... course.”

He spent a while longer giving an unusually animated speech about their various concoctions. Luckily she was too oblivious to realize his dancing was due to more than just enthusiasm, but he was still minutes away from bursting. 

“I’ll have that one.” the woman announced. Mishima was so happy to hear her make a decision he didn’t bother asking if she was sure. When she ent to take it, he swiped it from her. The sooner she was sent away, the better.

“Excellent choice! I’ll have my wife wrap this up and then-“

Crash! 

It took him a moment to register what was happening, but the toxic fumes rising up to tickle his nostrils did the trick. Lucrèce scoffed and shook her head.

“How could you be so clumsy? I work so hard to make those!” She came over and began to sweep away the shattered pieces of the vial. 

“Oh dear...” the woman whispered. Lucrèce waved her hand and grinned.

“Not to worry! We have more in the cellar.” She shot Mishima a frustrated glare. “Why don’t you go fetch it?” 

Did someone up there have it out for him? Never mind. He needed to move quickly - he figured he had about five minutes at best before everything went south. That and he couldn’t stay still to save his life.

At least he had a moment alone. The second the door closed he doubled over in pain. 

“Oh, m-merde.” he whimpered. Frantically, he began searching. The cellar was like a deadly labyrinth. What on Earth kind of system was his wife using to organize her wares? Roi De Lama, Roi De Lama, Roi De Lama...

“Ah!” he cried. He grabbed it and dashed back upstairs, leaking a little as he did. “Here you are, Madame.” he said, voice faltering. His knees began to buckle.

“I’m sorry, but while you were gone I sort of changed my mind... I’ll have this one instead.”

He stared at her blankly for a while. He wanted so badly to be angry, but he was too occupied with the crippling thought that it was too late for him.

“Mishima?” Lucrèce asked. 

He groaned and stumbled backwards, hitting the wall and sliding down a bit. He grabbed himself, a pathetic attempt to stop the piss that was soaking his dress pants. The women watched with shock as he humiliated himself.

It felt like forever, but after a moment he was finished. Urine still dropped off his legs into the puddle he was standing in. His face was hot with shame as he realized the full extent of his embarrassment.

‘Oh God, I want to die.’ he thought. The glint of a nearby sword suddenly caught his eye. ‘Well, if there’s any place to do it...’


End file.
